Thursday, July 21, 2016

Still Cute

I realize that my siblings and I are not the first people
to experience the decline of a parent, but lately the reality of how life ends is
forced in front of me. The geographic distance between all of us makes the
logistics of care difficult. North Carolina is where our mother resides with
our step-father, but we, her three children, live in Connecticut, Minnesota and
Arizona. Our step-father is not capable of providing the kind of continuous
care his wife needs now. We want to honor her wish to die at home. Not knowing
how to plan and for how long is inconvenient, but shouldn't be my main concern.
Now that Mom is under hospice care, I have taken on the role of primary
caregiver. Thank goodness my sister can arrange her work schedule so we can
take turns.

With all this, I try to take heart with a few positives:

Mom isn’t in pain.

Her dementia has kept her
from worrying as much about her liver cancer as a more cognizant sufferer might.

She still knows who we are and accepts our
care without embarrassment or resistance.

She has flashes of humor, reminding us that
she’s beautiful inside and out.

Mom is so weak, she
requires assistance to stand, to turn over, to move her legs out of the bed. She
barely eats and drinks only when the offer is in front of her. She has no bowel
control or awareness of having gone. She’s so emaciated, her bare torso shows
every rib.

Her norm over the past few weeks has become communication
with a look, a nod or shake of the head, especially when she’s sleepy. Sleep is
her life right now. When she does speak, it startles me. When she spoke in full
sentences to a former colleague who called her the other day, I was amazed.
Then she became tired and I had to take the phone.

Our mother took care of herself throughout her 77 years,
making her cancer seem that much more unfair. She was active, never
over-weight, regular doctor visits, no smoking or drinking, brushed and flossed…all
those things you’re supposed to do. She always been a positive person and looked
amazing for her age; never even had to color her hair. At this late stage, she
has gray roots for the first time. Her signature heavy eyebrows and dark lashes
are barely visible with their light color, making her look dramatically
different.

So we focus on moments and try to freeze those in our
memories. I was on the phone with her hospice case manager, a wonderful woman
named Joy who had called to check on her before the weekend started. As I spoke
to Joy, I walked into Mom’s bedroom where she lay and she opened her eyes,
wondering who I was talking to about her. I told her, “Joy wants to know how
you’re doing, Mom.”

Beautiful Sharon...it brings back the memories of taking care of my Mimi...she was 98 when she finally closed he eyes for the last time. It's all so bitter sweet. One time when she realized who I was there was such love in her eyes...I'll never forget it.

Thanks for a beautifully written report. I feel for you in dealing with your Mother's decline, and I am so glad you and Diana are able to get there as often as you do. My thoughts are prayers are with you all. aunt Clarice

About Me

I have been breeding and showing Maine Coon cats since 2001. I also share my home with a husband, kids, dogs and chickens. It's a life decorated with challenges, cuteness, hair and feathers. Visit my cattery website on http://www.dracoonfly.com.
I also blog on the Ledyard Patch at http://ledyard.patch.com/users/sharon-stegall/blog_posts